Creating Beauty in Spaces. Finding Beauty in Connection. That’s the theme of this blog. Lately, I’ve been focusing more on the “spaces” aspect. But last week, something happened. Something dreadful. Something incomprehensible, unthinkable.

It had been a good day. I’d spend a good chunk of it working on the blog post Greenhorn Farmhouse Interior Part 2 and the Finale. The sun had slipped behind the mountain and evening dark was descending. I fed the cats and dogs, sent Abigail to feed the horses and chickens and prepared to head to town.

Ours is a small community, nestled against a mountain named for a once powerful Comanche chief. It’s a simple place with ranches, and cattle drives, mountain trails and breathtaking vistas. A picturesque lake lies 11 miles to the northwest, further into the Rockies. Another lies in the heart of the community, 5 miles down the mountain. We have a couple of restaurants, a bar or two, and a handful of other shops and businesses.  Nightlife is often found under stadium or gym lights while cheering for the local high school teams, and the local FFA Member Auction and Oyster Fry will draw one of the largest crowds of the year. And yes, those are Rocky Mountain Oysters.

Kids get bored here. It’s not uncommon for them to graduate and move away. Nor is it uncommon for those same kids, with young families in tow to return to this place my childhood friend describes as “magical”.

So, we were heading to town. “Town” is the term for the nearest city. The place where we go to shop, bowl, maybe see a concert, go the State Fair or catch a movie. It’s where two of my daughters attend school, one at the local college and the other at cosmetology school. And this night, Abigail and I were making the 35 minute drive to town to ice skate with a friend.

The miles slipped behind us as Abigail kept up a steady chatter. School, FFA, her friends, which college she wants to attend. Then my phone rang. It was my daughter, Anna. Both she and her younger sister, Alia work at the local barbecue restaurant. She doesn’t usually call me from work.

“Can you come get Alia?” I could hear the tremble in her voice. My heart skipped a beat. Something had happened. What had happened? Was Alia ok?

“Aspen was killed in a car accident.”

Aspen. Alia’s dear friend. Her best friend through much of high school.  Aspen, who had moved to Denver to live with her grandmother following their high school graduation. Aspen, who was there, at the Walmart where she worked when an armed shooter let loose a hail of bullets just a few  short months ago. The girl who loved her family. Who was kind to her friends. Adored her horse and dog. Aspen. Who doted on her little niece.  Alia’s partner in crime. Her fellow FFA officer. Daughter, sister, granddaughter, aunt, and friend.

The details would be sparse. Nineteen years old. Heading home for the weekend, I presume. Traveling the road she’d travelled hundreds of times. The afternoon sun high overhead, it’s brightness masking the bite of the wind. Suddenly, the car was out of control. Off the road. She was ejected from the vehicle as it rolled before coming to a stop. Aspen. Gone. In a hot second, the blink of an eye.

Life cut short. Too soon. Senselessly. Leaving questions and heartache and searching. Searching for some way to wrap our minds around this unfathomable tragedy.

I turned the car around and headed for Alia. I would hold her and we would cry, my heart breaking for Aspen’s family and for my girl, knowing that I could not take this hurt from her, could not kiss it and make it all better. I’d read the pain and confusion in her eyes and wish with everything in me that I could take it and carry it for her. But it doesn’t work that way.  Dammit. I wish it did.

Twenty-eight years ago another nineteen year old lost his best friend. Another family lost a son and brother. Another life cut short. Twenty-eight years ago I held another, my younger brother,  and we cried and mourned the loss of his best friend, Kevin.

We cried with Kevin’s family, our friends, our family, by choice if not by blood. Kevin’s sister, Lori, would stand beside me when I married a few years later. But twenty-eight years ago, we weren’t thinking about weddings and futures. We were aching for a future that would never be.

On that day and the days that followed, our families hugged and cried and clung to each other in a desperate attempt to make sense of the senseless… an effort in futility, but an effort our minds and hearts compelled us to make.

And, then, as now, I wished I could take the pain, could spare those I love.

Twenty-eight years later we still miss Kevin, still wonder who he would have become, what he would have done. His name is still on our lips. Time  has not diminished our memories nor our love.

And, I know that twenty-eight years will not be long enough to erase Aspen’s memory from the heart of my dear Alia. At unexpected times, a memory will burst into her thoughts, like sunlight through the clouds after a storm. She will remember her friend and she will smile. The memories will not fade but the sharp, stinging pain will.

It’s a funny thing, this life. We go about our business and too often our busy-ness. Then one day, without warning tragedy reaches in and shakes our world, right down to it’s very foundations, bringing with it confusion, denial, anger and grief. It assaults our faith. It challenges us to cling tenaciously to the things that are most important. It reminds us that life is oh, so fragile.  It teaches us that love makes us vulnerable. If we didn’t love, we could be spared the excruciating pain of loss. But at what cost?  If we didn’t love, would we really live?

In the movie Shadowlands, CS Lewis put it like this:

Why love if losing hurts so much. I have no answers anymore, only the life I have lived. Twice in that life I’ve been given the choice. As a boy and as a man. The boy choose safety, the man chooses suffering. The pain now is part of the happiness then. That’s the deal.

Or, to put it a slightly different way, “We can’t have the happiness of yesterday without the pain of today.” (Joy, Shadowlands)

Today, I will go to my current job site. We will install windows and at the end of the day we will be one step closer to the finished product, to a house made beautiful and ready for the family that will makes it’s home within it’s walls. But today, as I cut holes, and install flashing and check for level, I will remember the reasons why. Always, close in my thoughts will be my children, my clients, the people who fill my life and occupy my heart.

And when I’m home again and the chores aren’t done and the house is still a mess and I’m frustrated I will remember. I’ll remember that even these things are to be cherished. That these precious ones are the treasures. I’ll remember how fleeting, how fragile life is. I’ll be thankful. I’ll seek to love better, more selflessly. I’ll choose to continue making myself vulnerable to love, even if it ultimately means choosing suffering. And I’ll believe that joy comes in the morning.

 

After publishing 5 Years, 5 Minutes and the Happiest Place on Earth, I was contacted with the following: “Inquiring minds want to know, how does this story end?” So, for all the inquiring minds …

In the original post I wrote, “Let’s be … people who choose, and choose again and keep choosing to embrace joy, to grab it fiercely and hold on tenaciously.” Those words really are the rest of this story.

When I checked out of the hotel, I had to pay several hundreds of dollars for the repair with the assurance that there would be a partial refund coming the following week. The following week I received a bill for over $2000.00. When I questioned some of the line items, I received a bill for $2400.00. I spent hours on the phone with the hotel manager, with the maintenance supervisior, with the third party contractor who installed the tub, with his franchise headquarters in Canada. I talked with attorney’s. Finally, I obtained the contact information for the person who runs the hotel. He agreed to seek another bid from another repair company and I have not heard from them in over a month.

I don’t yet know how the story will end. I only know that this is an opportunity for me to practice choosing joy, to continue choosing it when the bad situation only gets worse, to choose it when I am tempted to worry and Anxiety, that relentless adversary, would attempt to place me in his shackles and isolate me from joy.

I chose not to let the situation steal the joy of Disneyland and being with family. That was a personal victory, but I didn’t realize at the time that the joy of Christmas would be threatened as well, that in the following days and weeks I would be confronted with the same decision, with the same choice.

This story is still a cliff-hanger. I still choose to cling to joy. I am learning what it means to cling relentlessly and how to hold on with tenancity when my grasp feels weak and the days without resolution feel long. I am hopeful that I’ve heard the last of this, but if not, well, I guess I’ll keep practicing, keep choosing.

“Mom, you need to come in here.” This was Anna calling to me from the bathroom of our hotel room. Half an hour earlier I had stretched the hotel blow dryer from its location next to the sink, into the room that contained the bathtub and toilet. I wrapped the cord around the faucet, and put the blow dryer in my shoe.

About now you are probably wondering what in the world I was doing. Well, let me tell you. I was feeling brilliant!

We were at Disneyland celebrating Anna’s 21st birthday. Yes, her birthday was in July and yes it was now December. But there we were, with my parents, my son and daughter-in-law and my nephew. It was our second day and until now it had been magical!

Disneyland had been transformed into a Magical Christmas Wonderland. Garlands hung from buildings.  Lights twinkled, illuminating trees and roof lines. Christmas trees rose tall and majestic on Main Street. Christmas carols floated on the air. The very atmosphere was charged with a festive energy as gingerbread scented snow fell from the Southern California sky. Yep, snow in Southern California. Only at Disneyland!

An early catastrophe had been avoided when a kind man working Space Mountain recovered my cell phone. It had fallen from my pocket on our first ride on our first day.  In that moment, when he placed the phone in my hand I was sure nothing could mar this trip.

From there it only got better. We had not waited more than 10 minutes to get on a ride. I’d enjoyed a Disneyland corn dog … hands down the best corn dogs on earth … and I consider myself a connoisseur.  We’d laughed and laughed until I cried and my sides hurt.  I was surrounded by people I love.

The magic continued into day two. We’d walked thirteen miles the first day, and the park would be open later this night. For these reasons we decided an afternoon break was in order.

Knowing we’d be returning to the hotel room, we board a raft on the Grizzly River Raft Ride, affectionately known in our family as GRRR. The day before, we’d exited the ride with clothes soaked, hair hanging damp in our faces, and water squishing in our shoes with each step.

This time however we were prepared! We donned our newly purchased plastic ponchos, (at least the girls did), full of naive expectation that the plastic would somehow protect us. We’d learn that the water would find it’s way over the top, in the sides and splash up from the bottom. As a result, when we started the mile-long walk back to our hotel room we were once again wet and cold, but happy.

After changing from my wet clothes, I put the blow dryer in the porcelain sink with my wet shoes, hoping they would dry and plopped onto the bed with my laptop to complete some work before we returned to the park.

My dad asked about the persistent noise and in an effort to ease the annoyance I moved the shoes and blow dryer to the bathtub. I closed the door, the noise was muffled and I returned to the bed satisfied that I’d solved this minor issue and could only be considered brilliant …. until my high horse violently bucked me off with those 7 little words from Anna, “Mom, you need to come in here.”

I responded, somewhat tongue in cheek and with a little chuckle,  “What, did the blow dryer melt my shoe?”

“No worse. It melted a hole in the tub!”

What?! How can that be? A blow dryer can’t put a hole in a bathtub!! But it did. Right there, where the bottom of the tub meets it’s side was a silver dollar sized hole. There was no denying it. My mind raced. Could I fix it. Yes, I probably could. With a repair kit and a little bit of time. That was it. I’d just find a Lowes or Home Depot and I’d fix the tub before we left. But I wasn’t sure I could find an exact color match and did I really want to spend my vacation repairing a bathtub?

Google “what to do if you melt a hotel bathtub” and you will get exactly zero responses. Nada. Zip. Apparently I am the first person in the history of the internet to make this particular blunder.

I weighed my options, then drug myself to the front desk and attempted to explain to the manager what had happened. After several attempts to comprehend what I was saying he simply said he would send a maintenance man.

I left the office, dejected and depressed. This mistake was going to cost me more than the rest of the trip combined and I had certainly not budgeted for “melted bathtub”.

As I walked back to our room alone, I had some time to think. I recalled something I’d heard recently. “If the thing you are worried about will not matter in 5 years, don’t give it more than 5 minutes of energy or worry.” My memory was sketchy on the details. Maybe it actually said not to give it more than 5 hours of worry. I don’t know, but I had a firm grasp on the concept.

I knew, in that moment, I had a choice to make. I could let this ruin my trip or I could choose joy. I have the incredible privilege of being able to choose how I frame this story, not just here on my blog, but there, in that moment. In the moment of my distress. And in the moments that would follow.

I was in Disneyland. With three of my kids, two of which I don’t see often. I was spending time with my nephew, my parents. I was in the Happiest Place on Earth. A place where the worries of life can be set aside for a time and you can be transported back to childhood. Where magic is real and one can believe that dreams do come true.  I was experiencing something that, for many, remains only a distant dream.

A place that is the reality of one man’s audacious dream, a dream that today touches millions of lives every year, providing joy for it’s guests and employment for thousands of families.

I love the story of Walt Disney because he was a dreamer.  Disneyland was another dream in a long list of dreams pursued and obtained by Walt. Dreams that were pursued with great risk and at great cost. If you haven’t already, watch the movie Walt Before Mickey. Be inspired. Be challenged.

In that moment, walking from the office to the hotel room, confronted with my choice, I chose not to let stress steal joy. I chose not to steal the joy of those with me. There was not a thing, not one thing I could do about that tub. It was stupid, but it had happened and I would have to make it right. That was the cold, hard truth. But I didn’t have to let it be more than that. The circumstances had not changed, but I could.

In 5 years, it would be a mere memory, something the kids would bring up to tease me and we would all laugh together. I chose not to give it more than 5 minutes of worry, 5 minutes of energy. If I’m really honest, I chose not to give it 5 more minutes of worry. I’d surpassed the 5 minute milestone before I’d ever made it to the front desk. None-the-less, on that walk, alone, I made a choice.

That’s the real beauty, the real magic and most of us miss it. We have a choice! We can embrace faith or embrace fear. We can choose stress or we can choose joy. We can focus on what we don’t have or we can be thankful for the blessings we do have.

The choices we make ultimately make all the difference in our lives, in who we become, in our characters. They even affect our health. Choosing joy combats the damaging effects of stress. And, it affects those around us. Let’s be carriers of joy, people who enrich the lives around us in spite of negative circumstances. People who choose, and choose again and keep choosing to embrace joy, to grab it fiercely and hold on tenaciously.

There is tremendous power in realizing we can choose and in choosing joy.

5 years, 5 minutes. It’s your choice.

 

Just three days. Three days until we ring in the New Year. Three days until one calendar will come down to be replaced by another. New. Clean. Squares on a page, blank except for numbers to count the days, waiting for ink to consume the empty space. A blank page upon which we will write our story. And that’s the amazing thing. We have the incredible privilege of writing our own stories!

It’s a truth we often want to ignore, deny and avoid.  It’s uncomfortable. It means that our reality, our circumstances, our lives are in some way, at some level our own responsibility. Like a sword, it severs excuses. Like a flame it burns away blame we too often place onto others. It calls us to responsibility. We squirm. We try to avoid it, but it’s there, this truth. If we can summon our courage, raise our eyes and look it in the face, if we can set aside fear for just a minute, if we can come to embrace it, we will find freedom.

We don’t have to be stuck. We don’t have to settle. We don’t have to give up on dreams!

As I’ve thought about the coming year and considered goals, and what I will write in those blank, little squares, I’m increasingly mindful of this truth. My story will be written. Will I write it or will I let others write it for me? Will it be written by my intention or by the tyranny of the urgent? At the end of 2018, will I be able to say I lived the life I wanted to live, did the things I wanted to do, accomplished the things I wanted to accomplish, grew in the ways I wanted to grow, and developed the character traits I desired.  I hope so. With intention, with discipline, with faith.

It seems everyone has strategies and advice on goal setting. I’ve read the books, watched the Ted Talks, and listened to the podcasts. This year I’ve compiled those things into 6 strategies I want to implement in 2018.

1. Define the “why”.

I recently heard best-selling author Jeff Goins speaking about Michael Hyatt’s goal setting program. Jeff said a couple of things that were really eye-opening for me. He spoke of the need to define the “why”. Why do I want to accomplish a certain thing? Jeff said that the “why” has to be real, not some politically correct version of a “why”, or a “why” I think I should have. It needs to be a real, deep down in my heart reason for wanting to have or do this thing. He gave the example of losing weight and getting in better shape. The politically correct “why” is to be healthier and to have energy to play with the kids. The real “why” might simply be to look great and have greater confidence as result. We might be able to fool others, but we can’t trick ourselves. Define your “why”. Make it compelling. Make it urgent and be honest with yourself. I can’t explain it, but for some reason, that’s the hard part for me, being honest with myself. It’s scary. It feels vulnerable. But it’s powerful.

2. Focus on the smaller goals first

Jeff Goins said something else that really struck a cord. He said that sometimes it’s better to attack the smaller goals and then the big goals will take care of themselves.

In his book, This Life I Live, Rory Feek shares his journey to becoming a successful songwriter and realizing his lifelong dream. For a year he wrote at least one song a day. Day after day he wrote and he just kept writing. It didn’t matter that none of them became hits. He wrote. It didn’t matter that weeks and months passed without success. He wrote. After nearly a year, and over 300 songs, one song became a hit. And then another and another.

The goal could have been to write a hit song. In fact, that was part of his  ultimate goal, but the goal to get there was measurable and attainable. Write at least one song a day. Staying faithful to the smaller goal allowed the larger goal to take care of itself.

3. Be Consistent.

One of the hardest parts of setting and achieving goals is practicing discipline. You’ve heard the saying, “Pay the price of discipline or pay the cost of regret”. The reality is that few things are accomplished or achieved without practicing discipline. Discipline means doing the thing you need to do even when you don’t feel like it. It’s foregoing the good in pursuit of the best. It’s being consistent and tenacious, when you’re tired, when you’ve had a long day, when it feels like the world is resting on your shoulders, when your heart is aching. You do the thing anyway, because you can see beyond that moment in time, beyond those feelings, beyond the fatigue. The pain of the moment fades in the light of the promise of what is to come and you know that the cost of discipline pales in comparison to the cost of regret and joy comes in the morning.

4. Measure your goals and review your progress

Too often I’ve been known to set a goal and even go so far as to write it down only to stick it in a drawer and forget about it. Then I wonder why my life looks the same a year later. Goals are meant to be measured, reviewed and evaluated. This year I will review my goals each morning. I’ll keep them in forefront of my mind. I’ll evaluate my progress and tweak the goals if needed.

5. Celebrate wins, reward yourself.

I’ve never been very good at this. To me, accomplishing a goal is the reward. I don’t need a celebration. I’m much more comfortable just moving on to the next thing. But perhaps, just maybe, I’m missing the boat. My daughter Anna buys herself a little something every time she finishes a semester of college. She looks forward to this. It’s a little celebration, an acknowledgement that what she’s accomplished took effort and commitment, that she’s making progress toward the ultimate goal. I think it’s helpful. I think it’s good. Maybe I could use a little more celebration. Maybe we can celebrate together?

6. No place for fear.

What keeps us from achieving more? What keeps us stuck, struggling month to month to pay the bills? Or dieting year after year only to find the scale is moving in the wrong direction? What keeps us from pursing that thing we really love? Why don’t we tackle that project we’ve been putting off or get that education we talk about. The paperwork remains undone, the closets cluttered and unorganized. We still can’t get the car in the garage. We long for change so why don’t we create it?

For me, in my life, it’s usually FEAR. Fear is a ruthless slave master. His whispered lies become chains to bind us and we believe them. He cripples us from action. He’s a thief, stealing joy, stealing hope, stealing dreams. He tells us that we aren’t enough, will never be enough, that our best isn’t enough, and if we try we will only fail. He shouts that there’s not enough time, not enough energy, not enough money. He wants us to believe that our dreams are too big, too unrealistic, that people like us don’t accomplish things like that. Fear is a liar made powerful by our own decisions to believe him. Silence him with truth. Dis-empower him with  faith. Conquer him with love.

Then let yourself dream. And dream big. Then dream a little bigger. Define your why. Be honest with yourself, even when it’s hard, even when it’s vulnerable. Set goals and tackle the smaller goals first. Let them pave the way to accomplishing the larger goals. Be consistent. Practice discipline. Learn to find joy in the discipline because of the harvest it will reap. Measure your goals, evaluate your progress, change course as needed. Know that challenges are beneficial. And celebrate! Celebrate your wins, celebrate your milestones. Enjoy the journey.

Write your own story!  Find your courage, be bold, be playful, laugh, be audacious if you want. Dream the life you want then live the life you dream. If you haven’t started yet, why not start now?

I’ve been thinking about Gratitude lately. The topic seems to be popping up on blogs, and in social media and magazines. So what’s the big deal about gratitude and why are people talking about it?

In his essay, “Why Gratitude is Good”,  Robert Emmos, a scientific expert on gratitude writes, “First, it’s an affirmation of goodness. We affirm that there are good things in the world, gifts and benefits we’ve received. This doesn’t mean that life is perfect; it doesn’t ignore complaints, burdens, and hassles. But when we look at life as a whole, gratitude encourages us to identify some amount of goodness in our life.” So far so good. Who can argue that it’s beneficial to recognize the good in the world and in our lives.

In our plugged-in society we are constantly bombarded with stories of negativity, crime, terrorism, abuse and natural disasters. Sometimes it feels like the negativity washes over me, sticks to my body, invades my mind, drains my energy and joy and affects my sight. It’s very much like trying to look across a cigarette-smoke filled room. The colors are muted, eyes burn, images are distorted. The stench is foul and clings to hair and skin and clothing.

Practicing gratitude is a way of opening the doors and windows, letting light and fresh air replace the haze and putrid smoke. It’s like inhaling deeply of fresh, mountain, morning air.  It allows us to see things that we couldn’t see through the haze.

We live in a broken world. Bad things happen, children are hurt, disasters strike, we get sick, bosses are mean. You know this. You walk in those trenches every day. And it’s easy to begin to believe those things are the whole picture. They aren’t!

The world is also filled with beauty, kindness, goodness and love. Sometimes we just can’t recognize those things through the smokey-haze.

Gratitude brings those things back into focus and in doing so it provides us with a whole host of benefits … It reduces depression, increases happiness and optimism. It has documented health benefits, affects neural activity (read more here), reduces stress, increases the length and quality of sleep, reduces pain, and boosts performance. Gratitude helps us see goodness.

Mr Emmos goes on to say, “The second part of gratitude is figuring out where that goodness comes from. We recognize the sources of this goodness as being outside of ourselves. It didn’t stem from anything we necessarily did ourselves in which we might take pride. We can appreciate positive traits in ourselves, but I think true gratitude involves a humble dependence on others: We acknowledge that other people—or even higher powers, if you’re of a spiritual mindset—gave us many gifts, big and small, to help us achieve the goodness in our lives.”

This, my friends, is the part that really spoke to me. For all it’s benefits, practicing gratitude is perhaps most beneficial in the way it affects our relationships. At the end of the day, it’s not the size of our house, the balance in our bank account, or the cars we drive that matter most. It’s the people who walk beside us, who share our lives, those with whom we laugh and cry and work and play.

Gratitude draws the connection between the goodness in our lives, those people who contribute to it and the God who is the source of it. It reminds us to be humble. It fosters kindness. It strengthens our connection with others. It helps us see the beauty around us, in nature, in situations, in people.

I wish I could say I’ve mastered this discipline, that practicing gratitude is natural and effortless. I haven’t and it’s not. It’s too easy to complain, to see the negative, to wallow in self-pity. But gratitude is worth pursing. And like most things, the more we do something, the easier it gets, until hopefully, it eventually weaves through the fibers of our being and becomes a part of our character. That’s who I want to be. So I will take the steps necessary to get there. I will put in the time and effort. I will practice the disciplines because I want to reap the rewards.  Would you walk this road with me, this road into greater gratitude?

Grateful for you!

 

Three ways to practice gratitude:

1. Keep a gratitude journal. Before bed each night, take 5 minutes to write down 1-3 things for which you are grateful. Do this for at least three months. This is not a new concept nor a difficult one, but it does take commitment and discipline.
2. Write a letter to someone who has influenced you and for whom you are grateful. This will foster gratitude in you and bless them.
3. High/low game. When the kids were young we had a tradition at our dinner table. (I think we saw this in a movie, but to be honest, I can’t remember for sure.) As we ate, we would go around the table and each person would share their “high and low” for the day. They would tell something that was hard or disappointing and then they would share the high point. This is something for which to be grateful.